


Under the Mistletoe

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Brotherly Bonding, Christmas, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Tags May Change, Top Dean, light humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: 1-shot. It’s Christmas time at the Bunker and despite an injury, Dean decides to give Sam an early gift that they'll both enjoy. (Can be set either Season 12 or 13.)





	Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: The usual for some foul language and explicit scene.
> 
> Tags: None.
> 
> Spoilers: None that I can think of.
> 
> Beta: AsteMcCann_JustaShadow
> 
> Author Note: Hello. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted. Sorry about that. Here is a late Christmas story that I hope you guys enjoy.

**Under the Mistletoe**

Holidays had never been a fun time for Dean Winchester ever since he was four years old and his life went to hell a few months before Christmas. He’d learned to fake it for his little brother, even after the year he’d learned the truth, as Christmas had still been a magical time for Sam.

This year the older Winchester had made plans to go all out when Christmas rolled around. He figured decorating the bunker, with all the corny and garish things he’d been buying and stashing, would be good for both of them, after all the crap they’d been through.

Sam’s eyes had gone wide, first with shock, then disbelief and, finally suspicion when Dean showed him the array of lights, tinsel, and, ornaments. He had both the official kind, as well as the more sillier kind meant to make his brother either laugh or blush.

“Okay, who the hell are you and what the hell have you done with my brother?” He’d asked while obviously debating if he should pull out the vial of Holy water he kept in his pocket for just such moments.

“Shut up and stop giving me lip, bitch,” Dean had smirked while lightly slapping his laughing brother in the back of the head. Then he turned to dig into a box of old ornaments that had managed to travel around in the trunk of the Impala for years, and had mostly survived. “We’ll pick out a tree after we get back from this simple salt and burn Jodi called about, and you can decorate it.”

He’d been a hunter for most of his life, and he’d known Murphy’s Law hated anyone with the last name of Winchester. So, Dean should have known that nothing this close to Christmas would end up “simple”, but he hadn’t actually been expecting what had happened.

The last thing Dean recalled was tossing a lit match into the uncovered grave of a recently deceased man. He had been seen by most of the small town, on the outskirts of Sioux Falls, before someone had either vanished or ended up dead in a bloody and violent way.

After two days of investigating, talking to witnesses, and going over police and autopsy reports, both Winchesters decided it was probably a case of a vengeful spirit since every victim seemed to have had some kind of problem with the deceased man or vice versa.

They’d taken turns digging up the nearly frozen grave while tossing ideas around about tree decorations. Dean recalled making one suggestion that had Sam turning a delightful shade of red while tossing a not so subtle reminder that they weren’t exactly alone in the old cemetery that night.

“Just keep all the X-rated ornaments off the tree if Donna or the girls and I decide to come and visit you boys.” Sheriff Jodi Mills remarked after offering to dig a little, in case Sam passed out from not breathing while staring at her in surprise.

“I told you she knew, thanks to Bobby, that’d we’d crossed those lines long ago, Sammy,” Dean had smirked while ducking the shovel that Sam tossed his way and digging for the box of matches in his jacket. “Just be sure to call ahead of time before you or Donna drop by this time so we can avoid any possible…repeats of the last time you two decided to barge in when Sammy and I were sorta…distracted.”

“Hotshot, you were making out on the bunker’s kitchen table on Thanksgiving so I think that classifies as more than distracted, Dean,” Jodi shot back as Sam tried to ignore the conversation, in favor of dumping the salt and gas on the decomposing corpse. “Now stop embarrassing your brother so I can go home and you two can go do things I don’t want to think too hard on. Or else I will be asking questions like which one of you actually tops and…”

“Okay. Time to finish this because I’m not answering that,” Dean muttered and had just tossed the match, when it seemed like too many things happened at once. Things that he was still trying to sort out.

The match hit, the gas ignited and flames shot up out of the grave like usual. The next thing the hunter heard was a huge noise from behind them in the trees that surrounded the cemetery. He heard Jodi shout for Sam to watch out and then Dean was moving, without looking or caring. If Jodi was that alarmed, then Sam was in danger and the big brother in Dean just wouldn’t allow that.

Dean still wasn’t certain what the hell the damn huge thing was that had come storming from the trees. All he’d known was that it had large sharp claws and fangs in a mouth of teeth that seemed to be heading for Sam.

“Jodi! The trunk! Iron, lead, or grab that damn grenade launcher!” Dean had shouted while tossing the Sheriff of Sioux Falls the keys to his car, even as he was bolting. It was a few feet from around the burning grave to where it looked like Sam had just been batted to the ground by one of those large claws, and didn’t appear to be moving. “Hey Bumble! Get your furry paws off my brother!”

Dean recalled seeing the thing turn towards him, and he heard Sam shout his name. At the same time he swore he heard a gunshot go off, and pain shot through his head. Things then went white, and then black for the hunter.

Waking up after any injury wasn’t fun for Dean. However, waking up to the feeling of Sam’s hand shaking while it grasped his, hearing the unspoken fear in his brother’s voice as he spoke, told the hunter that his hopes for making this Christmas fun and pleasant were going to be really hard to pull off.

Later, while Sam was arguing with the local doctors about signing him out AMA, as well as AJA (better known as ‘Against Jodi’s Advice’), Jodi told him that the creature had been something out of local Native American lore that only Sam fully understood. It had been controlled by the dead man’s wife. The kindly old woman that everyone in town adored. Who had also slammed a shovel into the back of Dean’s head hard enough to temporarily blind him.

That had been a week ago, and while Dean’s vision had mostly returned, it was still blurry at times. The pain in the back of his head and neck forced him to stay in bed more than he liked. Especially since Sam was too worried about causing him pain, so was trying to stay away from him unless it was to hand out pain meds or food.

Waking up, he saw that a small tree, like they used to buy when staying in cheap motels, had been set up on the desk in his room. There were a couple of newspaper wrapped presents under it, and it made Dean wince from more than just the small twinge of pain in his head. Then he heard a noise from elsewhere in the bunker that had him forcing down the pain and nausea, that came from moving too quickly, to go on a hunt for his brother.

Opening his door, Dean heard soft Christmas music playing from somewhere, and could smell something burnt. This meant he’d be cleaning his kitchen, and slapping his brother for even attempting to cook something more complicated than soup or cold sandwiches.

Following what sounded like a hammer pounding into hard wood, Dean heard a series of sharp curses, and knew his little brother had picked up a few of their former Marine father’s favorite swear words and could use them well.

Smirking a bit more, Dean debated on teasing Sam about his language or reminding him that he could sound like their father. As he stepped into the main room of the bunker he noticed that the map table was covered in lights and tinsel. In what Sam liked to call the library, a large full tree was set up, but it was what else he saw that made the hunter pause.

There was a lot about the old Men of Letters bunker that Dean liked to sneer at, call useless, or out of date. He’d made plenty of comments about an old fireplace in the room that sat between two large leather armchairs that he’d seen in plenty of old movies, but mostly mocked now. Though he had sat in one of them once while leafing through lore and thought it was comfy, but he’d ever admit that to his brother.

The fireplace had never been used since they started living there because Dean didn’t trust it to work safely. Though he hadn’t refused when his tech savvy sibling bought an insert that plugged in that looked like real fire and gave off heat. Dean actually had some interesting dreams about that fireplace and thought this winter might be a good time to make a few of those dreams a reality.

At that moment he was too busy watching as Sam. He was stretched up on the toes of his bare feet trying to pound a nail into the arched doorway, in an attempt to hang what looked like a twig to Dean. However, after a brief search of his memory, and years of teasing Sam about holiday traditions and lore, the hunter recalled it was mistletoe that his brother was trying to hang in between hitting his thumb with the hammer.

The lights in the bunker were dimmed so the room was lit mostly from the fireplace, the tree, and strings of lights that Sam had clearly strung up around the doors and bookcases of the library room. A look told Dean that his brother had also wrapped lights and tinsel up the wrought iron staircase and the bannister at the top of the main room.

A glance at the clock in the room also told Dean that it was late, which explained why Sam was just wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants he wore to sleep in and no shoes. The Christmas music, the fireplace being on and the decorations that had been put up since he was through earlier that evening, after attempting to eat in the kitchen, also told him that Sam was either bored, restless, or upset.

Taking a step closer he watched as Sam jerked his throbbing thumb back after hitting it again. Dean was just about to speak when he nearly made a noise of another kind when that thumb slipped into Sam’s mouth and other thoughts filled the hunter’s head.

He and Sam had crossed the lines from brothers to lovers years earlier, but recent events had made finding time to be alone, to even talk much less make out, difficult. Dean’s injury also made finding those intimate moments difficult since Sam was on the verge of being manic overprotective. Worried about causing him pain if they did anything more than kiss.

As Dean watched his brother stretch up again to try to get the annoying twig of mistletoe nailed up, he noticed the way Sam’s t-shirt rode up to reveal smooth muscles on a toned stomach. He decided to ignore any leftover pain and give his brother one of the Christmas gifts he’d been planning to sneak in that year.

“Hey, baby boy.”

The deeper than usual voice, the voice that had always sounded like pure whiskey coated sex to Sam Winchester, took him by surprise. He turned from swinging the hammer to see his brother leaning on the map table in the other room. He was dressed only in unbuttoned jeans with his short hair still tousled from a restless sleep, but it was the green eyes along with the words spoken that had the hammer slipping from his fingers.

“Hey,” he returned after a second of hesitation. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, silently chastising himself for actually jumping at the sound of the hammer hitting the wooden floor. “Did…sorry if the hammering woke you up. I couldn’t sleep tonight and figured even though it was late and almost Christmas that I’d put a few of those decorations to use and…ummm…”

Sam knew when one corner of his brother’s mouth curved up into a slow sexy smirk that he was babbling. Sam hated to babble because usually Dean teased him, and there was no reason to be nervous. He wasn’t sure why the deep intense look of desire and want in Dean’s eyes, on top of the use of that one nickname was making him feel the same as he did at sixteen. On the night he finally convinced his brother to cross the lines that had always been off limits before then.

“No, the hammering didn’t wake me up,” Dean finally spoke after seeing how nervous Sam was starting to get with his silence. “I’ve been awake but I forgot to do something earlier so I got up...and then heard you trying to remodel the place.”

“Oh! Damn it! I forgot to leave the pain meds out by your bed in case you woke up in pain. Shit!” Sam had been hoping that the pain of Dean’s injuries would be easing off, since it worried him that his brother still had pain behind his eyes and in his head. “Sorry. I’ll go grab them while you head back to bed and…huh? Dean?” he blinked when suddenly a hand, flat against his chest, was pressing him back into the arched doorway, and Sam wondered when the hell his brother had even moved.

“The meds can wait, Sammy. This can’t,” Dean could tell Sam was worried that he was in pain. He also could tell his brother was tired from a lack of sleep over being too worried about him. Sleep was another thing he planned to make sure Sam got…later.

Confused and worried, Sam blinked again. “What can’t wait?” he asked, trying to remember if he’d forgotten anything else, or if Dean had told him something earlier. Then his brother’s next move had him nearly forgetting to breathe.

“This,” Dean murmured a moment before he closed the last scant inches between them. Keeping one hand flat against Sam’s chest, he reached his other hand up to close his fingers around the back of his brother’s neck, and brought his head down enough so their lips brushed in a kiss that was slow and light, but still managed to take Sam’s breath away. “Love you, Sammy,” he whispered against Sam’s lips after drawing back enough to let them both catch their breath.

From the moment they shared their first kiss, when Sam turned sixteen to now, there was still something about the drop in tone from Dean’s normal gruff one. Something to the lower, huskier one he could get. The gentle but still hot way Dean could kiss him that could turn Sam’s brain to mush at the same time as his blood heated and another part of his anatomy came to life.

“I…you…God, this is so not fair,” Sam groaned, heading falling back to allow hot lips to trail over his jaw, down his throat, until finally feeling the slight rasp of Dean’s five o’clock shadow rubbing against his skin. His brother began to slowly lick and suck the skin at the hollow of his throat. A spot that both brothers knew Sam was extremely sensitive. “You’re…still hurt.”

“I’ve been hurt plenty worse than this and still managed to make out with you, baby boy,” Dean countered with a low chuckle at the sounds Sam was making without even being aware of it. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Day so I’ll stay in bed while you play nurse or doctor on me if it’ll make you happy, so long as I get to make out with you under this mistletoe right now and in front of that fireplace sometime today.”

Sam’s eyes, that had gone half closed in pleasure, snapped back open to stare into Dean’s deep green eyes before sliding over towards the fireplace and back again as if debating with himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want this to happen. He’d been longing for not only the sex but the physical connection he and Dean shared in these moments. One of the reasons he was up and decorating right then was because he’d been restless and missing sharing a bed like they did so often now. Sam also knew if they shared a bed not much sleeping went on, and he was still worried about Dean’s head injury.

His brother’s mouth skimmed along his throat, calloused fingertips slipped under his t-shirt to begin a slow exploration of Sam’s stomach, and then up his chest, until finding a hardening nipple. This had Sam arching, and his resolution to not let this happen right then weaken. It melted fully the moment Dean’s teeth raked over his throat to bite just lightly over Sam’s collarbone.

“Fuck!” Sam was shocked he didn’t come right then and there. He felt his blood heat more at the low sexy chuckle Dean gave as he eased back so their eyes could meet. “Are you in pain now?” he asked only to laugh when his hand was moved down to feel the bulge in the front of Dean’s unsnapped jeans. “I meant was your head hurting or your eyes, not your dick…jerk.”

“You didn’t specify…bitch,” Dean’s lips curved into a teasing smile. Letting the fingers that still rested on the back of Sam’s neck begin to gently knead tight muscles, and slowly beginning to feel Sam’s body relaxing back against him. They were still leaning in the doorway under the mistletoe. “Gonna let me kiss you under this mistletoe before we make love, little brother?” he asked softly.

Sam hesitated for another brief second, concern warring with desire, before losing the battle and nodding. “Yes,” he thought he got out before the ability to breathe, much less think clearly, left him at his brother’s next kiss.

Expecting the hard, fast, intense kiss that Dean was known for when he got that one teasing smile, it took Sam off guard when his brother’s hands framed his face before kissing him slowly, gently, deeply but without heat or haste.

It was the type of kiss that never failed to melt Sam’s heart as he knew it was one of Dean’s ways of telling him that he loved him without words.

Returning the kiss fully, Sam groaned when Dean shifted his head enough to change the angle of the kiss. He let it slowly start to heat up. He felt himself pulled forward and went with the tug that took him into Dean’s arms.

The kiss only heated enough to keep Sam’s attention on it and the feel of rough fingers gliding under his shirt to explore skin that Dean knew intimately, but never got tired of touching in some way.

Dean was debating if he wanted to do this on the rug in front of the fireplace, or in one of their beds. He slipped the fingers of his right hand around to glide up Sam’s back and went still the second he felt his brother tense and heard the soft sound of pain.

Quick to use his other hand to catch Sam’s hair and give just enough of a tug to warn rather than hurt, the older hunter eased back from the kiss. He looked into hazel eyes that were getting darker with desire, but also now had a wariness that told Dean his hunch that Sam had been injured that night weeks ago had been correct.

“How bad did the wannabe Bumble hurt you that night, Sammy?” he asked quietly. Dean wasn’t willing to lose this moment, but he also wanted to know how much he had to readjust his plans to allow for any pain or injuries his brother might still have. “Tell me the truth or else Santa isn’t bringing you a new Holiday Barbie,” he teased while also leaning back in to catch the bottom lip that Sam had just been gnawing on nervously to draw it into his mouth slowly and was pleased to hear the sounds that got him. “Tell me?”

Sam really didn’t want to risk breaking this moment or risk Dean’s quick temper that he feared would come out over him not telling him that he had been hurt. He also knew that if he didn’t answer it would just end up in a fight between them. The kiss and teasing told him that so far his brother was willing to listen and not jump him for keeping his own injuries a secret.

“It’s…it’s mainly some bruises on my back and a cracked rib or…t-three from where it slammed me down on a broken piece of stone,” he admitted after another second or two. “And…this.” Sam added softly and regretfully took a step away to carefully pull his t-shirt over his head with a wincing hiss of pain. “If I swear it’s not infected but just still sore would you just forget this and go back to kissing me?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, I plan to go back to kissing you, baby boy,” Dean had no intention to not do that, but as he caught sight of the slightly raw looking line of stitches, where Sam’s side had been raked by the monster’s claws, he was also making new plans. “Did you stitch this or did you have the doctors or…” he stopped to glance up again and knew by the slightly guilty look on Sam’s face what the answer was. “Huh,” he grunted and knelt down as if to look closer at the stitches. “Remind me to thank Jodi for stitching you up since I know you didn’t do this. You’re neater.”

Sam’s hands were nervously hovering close, as if to grab for Dean’s if he went to touch the gash. While he didn’t think the wound was infected it was still hurting him. He blinked at the calm voice. He was surprised his brother wasn’t yelling about hiding an injury, especially one that required stitches.

“You’re better at it than she is though,” he murmured, hissing at the first move of Dean’s hand to touch him. Before he could stop him, he felt his hands caught, his eyes held by glittering green ones, that he knew were silently warning him to stay still. “Dean…don’t…”

“Of course I’m better at stitching you up than Sheriff Mills. I’ve only been doing it for most of your life, little brother,” Dean’s lips curled up into a cocky smile that softened when he placed a light kiss above the line of stitches. They looked slightly red to him, but he was willing to ignore the need to clean and disinfect the injury for the moment. “Let me see your back.”

Sam knew it wasn’t a request so, with a sigh, he turned enough so Dean could see the array of blue and black bruises that littered his back and left shoulder. He heard the sound of what he knew was his brother clenching his teeth. Guessing the intimate mood was over Sam began to speak, to say something to break the silence when a sudden touch of warm lips to the small of his back had him freezing. “Dean?”

“I’ll be honest when I say I’m not happy that neither you nor Jodi told me that you were hurt bad enough to need stitches,” Dean admitted, voice still deep, husky but not angry as he knew to be careful with both tone and touch since he’d felt how rigid Sam was standing now.

“You couldn’t see so I didn’t want to worry you, and if you had known about the cracked ribs or the gash you would have been worried, and upset that you couldn’t see it to clean it so I asked Jodi to not tell you.” Sam glanced back to see Dean was still kneeling behind him, going on after he saw his brother nod in agreement. “When you got your vision back you were and are still in pain so I…I just didn’t want to worry you. You always worry about me and…”

“Always have, always will, little brother,” Dean agreed, fingertips gentle as they moved up to ghost over the largest section of bruise on Sam’s back. “That’s my job, Sammy. Looking after my pain in the ass little brother. No matter how old you might get to be it will always be my job to look after you, worry about you, take care of you and…love you.”

Biting his lip and debating if now was the best time to get into the old ‘take care of each other’ argument, Sam’s mouth snapped closed as he turned, just as Dean rose to his feet smoothly and with a grace that the younger Winchester still envied.

“It still shocks you when I actually say those words, doesn’t it?” Dean knew it did and once again regretted all the years his brother hadn’t heard words so simple, but ones that were still so difficult for him to say out loud.

It did but Sam also knew Dean hadn’t been raised to express his emotions openly. There had always been subtle ways, little things that they’d learned to express both love and support to each other. Even now it was more those subtle little ways, like a touch to the arm or the back of the neck or a look at one another that still allowed Sam to see his brother’s emotions and vice versa.

“Dean, I know you love me. I know and…” Sam started to say but was cut off by a deep kiss. “…I love you too,” he finished with a rush once the kiss broke. If Dean had a hard time saying those words then Sam knew his brother also had hard time hearing them as well.

“I know you do, Sammy,” Dean did know it. He also knew it was time he tried to put more effort into actually saying those words to his brother. Saying them when one of them weren’t on the verge of dying or sex wasn’t about to be involved.

He reached up suddenly to tuck a stray strand of dark hair behind Sam’s ear, like he used to when they were both younger and Sam wasn’t four inches taller. It amused him to see the faint blush that tinted Sam’s cheeks at the simple gesture, but it was when Sam turned his face just enough to press a kiss into his hand that reminded Dean of what they were doing and what he had planned.

“Bedroom or the rug in front of the fireplace?” he asked just as both hunters heard a cell phone go off somewhere in the bunker. Dean shook his head even as Sam was starting to move. “Leave it.”

Sam almost reached for the small vial of Holy water he kept on him at all times. “It could be important,” he said, gasping when this kiss was the hot, heated, and point making kiss that he’d been waiting for since his brother startled him earlier.

“No. This is important. You’re important to me. I want to make love with you, Sam,” Dean figured the world could be ending again and he’d still ignore that phone. So long as he got to see the dimpled smile that just flashed at him when Sam realized he wasn’t going to let whoever was calling interrupt them. “Whoever’s calling can leave a message and we’ll call them back…the day after Christmas,” he put in while finding the pulse point in Sam’s neck and began to nuzzle there until he heard a soft laugh. “That’s my boy.”

The ringing cell phone and anything that it could bring for them was quickly forgotten as Sam lost himself in the feel of Dean’s hands gently gliding over his skin. The kisses they exchanged began to heat more, deepen until both brothers were gasping but neither wanted to break away first.

It was the sudden heat from the fireplace warming him that brought Sam’s focus back from where it had been lost in meeting Dean’s kisses. Their tongues were meeting and playing while neither worried about who was in control since it was a silent given to Sam that Dean would always take control in the end.

Lowering them to the soft fur rug in front of the fireplace, Dean supported himself with one arm while using his other hand to card back strands of too long hair so he could see Sam’s flushed face. “I love you, Sammy,” he said in the low voice that spoke emotions he wasn’t sure how to speak, but knew when Sam’s lashes lowered to try to hide his suddenly wet eyes that his brother understood them.

Swallowing the emotions he felt, but didn’t want to say or show, Sam started to roll to his stomach, only to blink at the hand that touched the center of his chest, which had always been another unspoken signal between the two of them. He began to ask the question on the tip of his tongue only to have his words cut off by a single kiss that soon had him going limp.

“I want to watch you watch me, Sam,” Dean explained, standing long enough to shed the jeans he’d slipped on but hadn’t buttoned. He left his boxer briefs on for the moment as he moved to stretch out on the fur rug beside Sam. “I want you to watch me as I make love to your body before making love with you.

“Fuck!” Sam groaned at the images those words gave him, and then shivered at the touch of soft lips brushing over his face. Then they began the slow trail down his body until Sam was ready to explode with want. “Dean…” he broke off what he knew would sound like a whine, but heard his brother’s low chuckle from where Dean was stretched out between his legs.

Dean lifted his head from where he’d been concentrating on using both his mouth and tongue to trace each rigid muscle in Sam’s stomach. He was also using the hand he’d slipped between Sam’s legs earlier to carefully and slowly open Sam’s hole with fingers slicked with lube. He still had to remember to ask why Sam had it in his pocket.

“Because it’s technically Christmas Eve, and I plan to keep you sexed out until New Year’s, so I can then call do-over of anything chick flick I might say to you I can say this,” he smiled while noticing how glassy Sam’s hazel eyes looked when they finally managed to open to stare at him. Leaning up to offer another soft kiss that Dean kept light and slow, because he knew it would earn him that one smile he loved to see on Sam. “You’re beautiful, baby boy. Beautiful and mine.”

The last word was said with a low growl, and with a kiss that was hot, hard, and possessive. A kiss that the younger man met fully, and returned with as much desire as was given.

Sam understood that things usually said between them while intimate never went beyond the moment. He understood it was in times like this that Dean’s emotional walls were lowered because he felt safe enough to share things like he just had. Sam also understood that it was in these moments that he was allowed to say things that he could never say any other time, without risking Dean shutting him down or teasing him about it. Sam knew to take advantage of these moments when they happened.

“Always yours, Dean,” he said quietly. He hoped his voice was steady, despite the pounding in his heart and the feel of his body lighting up when calloused fingertips brushed lightly over his prostate. “Dean…please…”

“Roll over for me, Sammy,” Dean had planned to make love so he could watch his brother’s face, but he also didn’t want to risk putting more pressure on the stitches or cracked ribs, so he put that plan off for another time. “And tell me if your ribs or those stitches start to hurt,” he added, but smirked when he caught the eye roll and bitch face that earned him. Both Winchesters knew it would take a lot more than minor pain for Sam to stop this now. “Bitch face me right before I’m about to stick my dick in your ass? Are we sure that’s a wise move, little brother?” he asked with a not so light slap to Sam’s ass once his brother had rolled to his stomach, only to have Dean adjust him how he wanted. “No rubbing off either, kiddo.”

That earned him a low groan and a not so quietly muttered oath that just made Dean laugh. He loved teasing Sam, but since he’d felt how tense he was, and how red and dripping Sam’s cock was, he realized that this time might not take long for either of them as he might’ve liked.

Pressing a kiss against the back of Sam’s neck, lips soothing over the knob of bone there, Dean gave another quick test with his fingers to be sure his brother was open enough. Only once he was certain did he ease the head of his own, well past ready cock’ in slowly. “Damn, you’re still tight,” he muttered, holding still until he felt Sam’s body relax again.

Taking the time to soothe them both by kissing along Sam’s neck and shoulders, Dean knew when he could begin to give gentle thrusts of his hips. He also knew by the sounds Sam was making when he could speed up those thrusts until he felt himself go flush. He had also managed to keep his cock from making direct contact with Sam’s prostate.

Fighting his own body’s desire to claim, to come right then, the elder hunter forced himself to go still and not move while offering kisses, and light bites to the back of Sam’s neck. He slid his mouth to the side of his brother’s throat to feel the pulse beating strongly, and settled there to draw the skin with his teeth until Dean was certain his brother would have an interesting mark for the next few days.

Sam was struggling to not growl at his brother to hurry up when he felt Dean pull almost all the way out, and opened his mouth to object, only to feel his body light up when his brother gave a sharp thrust that brought him flush again. Only this time his cock hit Sam's prostate dead center.

“Dean!” he shouted, eyes snapping open. He’d closed them when the lit Christmas tree in front of them had started to spin. Sam realized he’d been holding his breath while trying to focus on the feel of Dean’s cock slipping up past tight inner muscles, and the warmth of his brother’s body pressing against him from behind.

Now the feeling of that cock hitting that spot inside him, and Sam knew he couldn’t last much longer. His cock was dripping precome steadily so, he figured the first time Dean touched it he’d come. That is if he didn’t just climax untouched by the feel of his brother’s mouth on his neck.

Reaching up on instinct, Sam went to grab for Dean’s hair only to remember too late, and with a low chuckle from his brother that Dean had just recently had his hair cut again so it was too short for him to grab onto.

“I had it cut because I knew we’d be making love soon and you tend to get grabby, little brother,” Dean laughed at the curse Sam threw about his ‘goddamn short hair’ while giving Sam’s hair a playful tug. “It’s why I tell you to cut this mop, but I do admit it comes in handy when I want to do…this.”

Wrapping his free arm around Sam’s chest, while being careful of his injuries, Dean gave another tug to Sam’s hair to pull his head back as he straightened up to his knees. A move that not only brought Sam back fully against his chest but assured that every move now would take his cock right against Sam’s prostate.

Bearing the weight of both of them had Dean’s legs and calves burning, but it was worth it to hear the sounds Sam made as he got closer to climax. Also, to see how flushed his face was as Dean leaned up enough to catch kiss swollen lips in another searing kiss that had them both searching for more.

“De’n…now. Please…” Sam was now past the point of caring if he begged. His cock was aching for release, his ribs had now started to hurt him, and he was also beyond wanting to get off. “Need…please touch me.”

“I’ve been touching you, Sammy,” Dean smirked while using his teeth to draw the bottom of Sam’s earlobe into his mouth. Suddenly it clicked what his brother meant, and he silently cursed himself when it dawned on him that he’d told Sam not to rub off earlier. Which meant that Sam wouldn’t touch himself or climax unless Dean touched him or told him he could. “I love you,” he murmured into Sam’s ear. Kissing the corner of Sam’s mouth he slipped a hand down to close around Sam’s cock. “Come when you want to, little brother.”

It only took two long, firm strokes of Dean’s hand, from base to tip, along with one solid thrust of his hips to have Sam climaxing with a cry of his brother’s name.

The feel of strong fingers curling around his cock nearly made Sam come, but he still managed to hold off until he felt Dean’s cock hit that spot inside him one more time. Then he felt himself falling over the edge with a shout. “Dean!”

Fighting to hold his own climax back in order to give Sam this time, Dean let his smile grow softer as he watched Sam’s face as he hit the peak. From the first time they’d crossed the line, the first time he watched his 16-year-old brother climax, it was a moment that Dean had known he’d never grow tired of seeing or hearing. Sam had always been vocal.

These days it amused him to hear the things that came out of Sam’s mouth during sex. Half the time the older Winchester wasn’t certain if his brother was making things up or speaking Latin backwards.

Dean only let himself hit that peak once he felt Sam’s body shudder, and his inner muscles clamp down around his cock. He came hard. Hearing a groan that could have come from either of them, but then there was nothing else heard between them except words murmured softly that would never leave that room. A soft whimper that finally told Dean that Sam’s cock was now over sensitized so, with a whisper against his ear he eased his hand away.

Sam was exhausted by this point. It had been too long since they’d made love, and he’d been tired already. As he felt the warmth filling him when Dean’s orgasm hit, and heard his brother’s deep voice whisper in his ear, it was all the younger man could do to reply before he felt things go white behind his eyes, and went limp against his brother.

“Sam? Shit! Sammy?” Dean’s body was on the verge of collapse by then. When he caught sight of a hint of white right before his arms were filled with dead weight, it was all he could do to maintain his balance without sending them both crashing back to the floor of the bunker’s library.

Careful to keep his arm around Sam, Dean was able to shift his weight enough to lower them both back to the fur rug. Making certain to keep Sam facing the fireplace so he’d get more warmth, while silently wishing he’d thought to grab a throw or something to cover them with until Sam woke up, and they could move to a bed.

Smoothing his fingers back through sweat soaked dark hair, Dean stayed still to allow his body to cool, and also so he didn’t disturb his brother by sliding out. Kissing the back of Sam’s neck, he smiled as he heard a sleepy murmur, while feeling his brother’s hand close over the one Dean had laying on his chest.

“Yeah, I still plan on letting you play doctor on me today if you want…or nurse since have I mentioned how kinky it would be to see you in a nurses’ outfit, Sammy?” he teased and smiled as Sam rolled over towards him to settle his head on the same spot he always had since they’d been kids sharing a bed. “Hey, Sasquatch, before you fall back to sleep, can we try to make it to a bed?”

Dean didn’t mind sleeping on the fur rug in front of the fake fireplace and lit Christmas tree, but he’d prefer it if he could do it after slipping Sam back into his sleep pants and grabbing a pair of his own.

“Hmm, sleep here,” Sam mumbled and threw a heavy arm across his brother’s chest, already well into sleep now that his body was cooling from sex, and hearing Dean’s heart beating under his ear. “Warm and you’re warm and…”

“And you still talk too much after sex, little brother,” Dean chuckled but finally conceded to Sam’s sleep plans with only a few additions.

It took him a few minutes of squirming out from under his very sleepy, and very grabby brother to make a fast run to his room to grab a pair of sweats to sleep in. He also grabbed the comforter off his bed, and a couple of pillows, along with his phone that he noticed had quite a few voicemails.

Noticing that during his absence that Sam had woken up more and had pulled on his own sleep pants, Dean tossed him the pillows and blanket to lay out before letting himself be pulled back down with a laugh. “If I sleep out here with you tonight then you’d better be a really good nurse later on,” he said. He debated on checking his phone when the feel of Sam curling back against him made, whoever had called 15 times, second of his list of things to do after Christmas.

“I’m not wearing that nurses get-up you have stashed in one of the boxes downstairs, but I think I can pull off the rest of it pretty well,” Sam replied, yawning as he lifted his head enough to meet Dean’s kiss. Which was always a soft, loving kiss that made Sam smile, before settling his head back down while his fingers traced the anti-possession tattoo on Dean’s chest. “I’m sorry my hammering the mistletoe woke you up, Dean.”

“I’m not,” Dean replied with a smile, fingers brushing back Sam’s hair from his eyes since he liked seeing how young, and at peace Sam looked when he slept after they’d made love. Tonight was no different as he watched Sam’s eyes drift closed with his head tucked under Dean’s chin. “I’m glad I got woke up. Of course after we wake up and I talk you into shower sex, and before we end up in my bed for the rest of the day you are going to let me check those stitches…right?” he asked with a tone that wasn’t really a question.

Sam was silent for a couple of seconds, but finally nodded with a sleepy sound that Dean took to be an agreement.

The bunker was silent except for the low sound of Christmas music playing, and Dean murmuring softly until he was certain his brother was asleep. He considered reaching for his cell to at least see who had been calling, and burning up his voicemail, but as sleep started to hit him, the hunter decided it could wait until the morning, or even after the holiday. Since he had no intention of hunting anything until after the New Year, he gave his phone a toss so it landed near the tree, with plans for tomorrow building in his brain.

Both Winchesters were sound asleep when the cellphone under the tree began ringing at the same time as Sam’s phone on the map table also took off ringing. Neither heard the ringing or the tight, exasperated voice of Jodi Mills on Sam’s voicemail.

“‘ _Sam, I don’t know what the hell you and that brother of yours are up to that you haven’t answered any of mine or Donna’s calls but you’d both better be awake, dressed and not having sex on a table or anywhere else in that bunker by the time Donna, the girls and I get there in the morning…or else I’m slamming both your damn heads together while you explain whatever it is we walk in on this time to Claire and Alex. Answer your damn phone next time too!_ ’”

**The End**

 


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